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The Council of the Wicked

The Mediterranean seas were quiet. The slightest disturbance from boats or planes could create a commotion.

While Arthur used a certain tech to teleport the great distance from the isle of Malta towards the abandoned floating city, two figures were busy doing running on top of the waters.

"How much further?" One asked.

"Getting tired, Old man?"

"A little. Ack! Cramps!" The first one suddenly fell into the waters.

"What the fragment?! Hey! Old man!" The other suddenly dove to save the first one who fell into the deep waters.

Some 200 kilometers from the island of Malta, Arthur had appeared to Lowengren and Alean.

"Egypt? Huh... You made me run all the way here when I should have headed south." Lowengren shook his head.

"What is Seeker planning?" Alean asked.

"What am I planning." Arthur corrected.